


Remember

by Ad_Undas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pathetic attempt at sadstuck, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Undas/pseuds/Ad_Undas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert doesn't remember, John Egbert doesn't know why he doesn't remember, but somehow it's all okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

 

_The notes of the song flow through your body and out into the air, the haunting melody lingering in the chill air and resounding off the wooden floor boards. The eerie song has no name because you have no given it one yet. It echoes from your memory but you cannot begin to guess when or how you ever heard it or even how you remembered through the hazardous fog of reminiscence and nostalgia you call your memories._

_A single tear falls over the curve of your cheek, giving the impression the very blue of your eyes is dripping down your face. You don’t bother to wipe it away. Another soon follows as you reach the climax of the song. By the end, as the notes start to become sparser and more relaxed as the song comes to its dreadful close, tears are streaming down your face. You don’t want the song to end. You don’t want to memory to end._

_But it does. The notes stop and you sit, staring at the keys for god knows how long. You watch your tears fall to the ivory white with the slightest ‘ping’ as they land, almost making their own music. You watch them accumulate long after you forget where they’re coming from or why they're even there._

_You don’t try to play the song again._

_*******_

Snow drifted slowly down around John as he stood by the park fountain, gazing into the solid water. If he looked hard enough he could almost see the azure of the sky hidden behind the surly clouds. He buried his face deeper into his scarf and threw a look over his shoulder. The sight of a small boy with blonde hair, holding a red balloon in one hand and what appeared to be his older brother’s in his other, sent a pang of sinking loneliness through his entire body.

John quickly threw away the image of the boy as fast as he could and went back to staring into the fountains frozen depths like it held _answers_.  John had questions, you see. John had so many questions but they all branched from one question that loomed over the rest, bearing its weight as heavily as it could in John's heart. From one volatile question that threatened to tear John Egbert’s mind apart.

_What can’t I remember?_

Memories, however fragmented, had ceased entirely from the age of thirteen. It left a gaping hole in his mind he tried to fill with sanity. You see the thing about sanity is. The thing about sanity is. _The thing about sanity._

It only goes for so far before it breaks.

Before it breaks.

Echoes of echoes of memories taunted him from every side; where ever he looked he could almost see what he wanted to, but shadows of an imitation is nothing like the real thing, whatever the real thing was for John.

“Hey, bro-“John’s heart stopped as the little blonde boy spoke (when had he turned around to watch the boys?)-“can you hold this for me?”

 _“Hey John, bro, can you_ _Ω₳◊◦●◌▪₳⸗ꜙ꜠  
_ John’s temple throbbed.

“Sure thing.” Replied the older of the two.

_“Of course D︡︢︣●◦Ω꜠︡︣︡︢€◌◦︣_

The word swam as the pain climbed to more urgent levels. The boy turned to John. His eyes were wrong. They were wrong. _They were fucking wrong_. Not right. John didn’t know what he expected. A  part of his mind tried feebly to explain it away as a lack of sleep. He tried to explain it all away as a lack of sleep. Burying his nose in his scarf, John sat down on the lip of the fountain, blinking rapidly. Slightly dizzy and more than a little nauseous, John rested his face in his hands. His palms were cool against his hot cheeks as he struggled not to cry, fighting the overwhelming urges of loneliness and despair he just didn’t understand. It’s the same feeling he gets every time he looks a particular shade of orange or the zodiac section in the newspaper he forces himself to read every morning.

It feels like he drowning. John is underwater and he doesn’t know which way is up. The bubbles and vague indications at memories are no help, flying up and down at the same time before he can get a good look at them or spinning in circles that made him so giddy and lightheaded he had to look away. In a way they force him under ever furth-

“Hey, mister, are you okay?” Comes a little Texan accent from John’s left, and he feels an even smaller hand in the crook of his elbow. John ignored how much it hurts to hear that particular accent and brought himself to look at a boy with blonde hair so fair it almost looks white. On his little nose, over top the dusting of pale freckles, where a pair of pointed anime shades. They hid his eyes and his face was calm, eerily calm for a kid his age, but somehow John knew. He didn’t know what he knew but he knew. The boy is wearing a white t-shirt with a big black spade on it and in his other hand in a hand-and-a-half katana made for a grown man at least six times his height.

And it’s okay.

Behind the boy, with a matching pair set of shades, watching carefully over the kid is a man wearing an orange cap and black leather biking gloves. John’s eyes clear and he smiles like a ray of sun breaking through the dark, dreary clouds with a patch of beautifully blue sky.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He says, patting the kids head, and he was. John Egbert doesn't remember, John Egbert doesn't know why he doesn't remember, but somehow it's all okay.. . 

**Author's Note:**

> *IS SUPER EXCITED ABOUT FIRST UPLOAD* 
> 
> Hi. 
> 
> I'm sorry I can't write.


End file.
